


Wednesday Morning

by aussiebee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Derek, M/M, Schmoop, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 03:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiebee/pseuds/aussiebee
Summary: Based on the following Tumblr prompt:fic where stiles and derek finally sleep together and the next morning derek is in the kitchen making pancakes or something idk wearing just a pair of boxers and stiles goes over and runs his finger down his back and tugs his boxers open to just stare down at his butt and just sighs happily.





	Wednesday Morning

Waking up with a jolt and instantly rearing back from the eye-searingly bright shaft of sunlight that was spearing him in the face, Stiles groaned piteously and cast a careless hand over the bedside table to try and blindly find his phone, knocking the lamp onto the floor and smashing the ceramic base. He sighed and ignored it, then suddenly cursed a blue streak when he managed to blearily read his phone and realised he was brutally late for work.

_“Fuck,”_  he muttered in a rushed litany as he tangled himself in the sheets –still drenched in the scent of sex from the night before, because  _sex_  with  _Derek_  was something that had finally happened, and of  _course_  he had to get up and go to work the next day instead of lounging in bed and wallowing in the afterglow,  _alone_ , apparently, because it looked like Derek had left already– and fell to the floor with an undignified yelp as he cracked his knee down onto the buckle of his belt where it had been left in their frantic undressing the night before.

After taking a brief moment to groan manfully and try not to cry, except with more tears, because that shit  _hurt_ , he hobbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wet his hair enough to try and shove it back from his face in some semblance of a ‘do that didn’t scream  _I spent most of last night getting thoroughly fucked_ , instead of standing in front of the mirror and enjoying his own kiss-swollen lips and the beard burn colouring the delicate skin of his throat. Not to mention the colourful assortment of hickies adorning his body, or the faint-but-still-there impression of teeth in several places. Or maybe those scratch marks curling over his shoulder there… alright, so he was multitasking.

Spitting and rinsing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand Stiles turned, but misjudged the angle the door had fallen closed to and swung his foot into it, almost breaking his little toe in the process.

“Get fucking  _fucked_ ,” he howled angrily, hopping back into the bedroom as he continued cursing, wondering if he could kill himself with his dresser drawers before managing to even leave the bedroom.

Turns out he couldn’t, but he did manage to tear a nail on a lose thread off one of his shirts, and then managed to somehow pull his own sleeves up so aggressively that his hand slipped off the cuff and he punched himself in the sternum.

Finally having had enough, he just stopped at the closed bedroom door and let his forehead thump (gently) against the wood. It had finally happened. He and Derek had finally managed to not only emotionally un-constipate themselves enough to confess their feelings, but they had made it all the way back to Stiles’ apartment for the most enthusiastic, messy, laugh-filled, touch-saturated sex Stiles had ever had. Of course, they’d managed to get their collective shit together on a Tuesday, which meant that Stiles had to be up early for work which he was currently hopelessly late for, but it had happened.

And Derek had apparently left without a word at some point after they’d succumbed to their fucked-out exhaustion, which  _sucked_ , but to be honest, Stiles couldn’t remember if Derek had work too, so he could have just been reading too much into it.

After he’d given himself a moment Stiles pulled the door open with a sigh and bolted down the stairs, only to skid past the kitchen door and slam his elbow into the frame while his arms windmilled wildly as he tried to stop.

Because there at the stove, all that smooth, perfect, warm skin that Stiles had spent hours with his mouth against last night on display in just a pair of plain black boxers, stood Derek. Making pancakes. Like every wet dream Stiles hadn’t known he wanted to have came to life.

“Morning,” Derek said huskily, throwing a warm smile over his shoulder at Stiles. “I called the station for you, told them you weren’t feeling well.” Amusement coloured his voice as Stiles cradled his bruised elbow in the opposite hand and watched him for a moment, struck utterly breathless at having been so lucky enough to have gained everything he ever wanted in life. “I don’t know if Parrish bought it, especially given that he saw us leave  _McMurphy’s_ together last night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before I managed to practically maim myself trying to get ready?” Stiles griped, but he was already crossing the kitchen– knee, toe and elbow throbbing– to wrap his arms around Derek’s waist and rest his forehead happily at the base of his neck.

Derek’s abs tightened a little under Stiles’ splayed fingers as he laughed. “You have no idea how funny that sounded from down here,” he said simply.

“What the fuck do I see in you?” Stiles groused cheerfully, idly running a hand down Derek’s back, hesitating a moment before hooking one finger in the back of Derek’s boxers because he was  _allowed_  to do this now, this was something he could  _have, god_ , and pulling the soft cotton out so he could just gaze down at the gorgeous perfection that was Derek Hale’s naked ass.

They stood like that for a moment, the muscles of Derek’s back shifting as he continued making pancakes and Stiles continued admiring before he sighed happily and closed his eyes, content.


End file.
